


Out of the Lake and Into My Arms

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, M/M, Major Character Injury, Season 7 Spoilers, Season/Series 07, Serious Injuries, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 11:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas comes out of the lake and Dean is there to find him. Supernatural Season 7.5 AU. Spoilers for Season 7.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> ((I'm sorry this is so short- this is the first fic I ever wrote and it's only about 600 words in this chapter.))

Darkness. Utter and complete darkness. It was unusual for Castiel to experience this- he was a creature of light, after all- but not unheard of.

The next thing he was aware of was exactly how cold it was. This bothered him significantly more- he shouldn’t be affected by external forces like his vessel would. Cold was bad. Cold was dangerous.

The last thing he became aware of was that his vessel was drowning.

Panic overtook him as he realized he had to do something, now, before his vessel died and he was released. He did the only thing possible and drew the last bit of his angelic power and shot to the surface. Later, he would realize that this was a mistake, because he wouldn’t have died anyway- his grace kept his vessel together. But in his panic (which, he figured, was a result of nearly drowning), he used up his store of power, leaving him weak and drained and he floated barely above the surface of the water. Dimly, he registered a breeze on his face, which was warmer than the lake- but not by much.

 _Float, you stupid son of a bitch_ , he thought tiredly. The derogatory phrase brought him up short for a moment. That wasn’t something he would say normally- he’d picked it up from someone else. Someone he was close to. Who?

Castiel tried to focus as he floated. The coldness of the water had blocked it, but now as he gradually warmed he was beginning to notice he was badly injured and in quite a lot of pain. Think, he thought desperately.

Short visions flitted across his mind. A leather jacket. An old, beat up car. Classic rock music blaring through the speakers. An amulet that would be used to find God. Green eyes.

 _Dean_ , he thought with relief. _Where are you?_

\----

It was the first time Dean had returned to the lake since that day. He wasn’t sure why he was going; it was his idea, though. When he’d suggested that maybe they should go back to the lake, Sam had said something about “closure” and “psychological studies” and “That’s a good idea, Dean, it could help a lot” and went on to tell him that he better not “even think about going alone because I’m coming with you” and had proceeded to pack.

The kid was a lot to handle at times.

But now Dean was standing by the edge of the lake, with Cas’ trenchcoat gripped tightly in his right hand. Sam was back with the car- Dean had wanted to be alone.

He knelt by the edge of the lake, unsure of exactly what he was doing. He looked into the water and the words spilled out before he could stop them.

“Why’d you have to leave, Cas?”

Dean reached out and touched the surface of the water with his left hand. Thoughts of Cas clouded his mind, and he missed Cas so much it _hurt_. A ripple shot out from between his fingers, and to this day Dean swears up and down he felt a rumble, like an earthquake, underneath it, but he’ll never know for sure. Dean stood and turned to walk away, but when he heard something like bubbling water, he turned back. The middle of the lake was glowing mysteriously and starting to boil like a volcano. Dean backed a away slowly, then made up his mind and turned to run.

The lake exploded behind him. He stopped dead in his tracks and looked back, and his mouth fell open in shock. The lake looked completely the same as before. Except…

Except it looked like, where the lake had been glowing, it looked like something- no, someone- was floating. Dean could have sworn it looked just like-

But no, it couldn’t be…

Then he saw it.

The floating man _spread his wings_ in an effort to stay afloat.

_Cas._

Dean took off running back toward the lake.


	2. The Discovery

Castiel didn’t hear Dean at first. At least, not until Dean had him in his arms and was dragging him back to shore.

Then he could hear, alright.

“Cas! Cas, oh my God, you’re alive-” Dean pulled Castiel away from the water as gently as he could and laid him on the shore with Castiel’s head cradled in Dean’s arms. “Cas, please, _please_ don’t move, you’ll hurt yourself more- SAM!” Dean turned his head as he shouted for his brother desperately. Castiel stared at Dean confusedly- they thought he was dead. How long had he been gone? Castiel tried to sit up and fell back into Dean in a haze of pain.

“No, dammit, don’t move!” Castiel obliged- moving hurt, a _lot_. “Cas, can you hear me? Cas, please, say something,” Dean pleaded with him. Dean was… concerned? Worried? Yes. Worried. Dean was worried about Castiel’s wellbeing. The thought gave Castiel a strange, fluttery feeling- what was that? “ _Cas_ ,” Dean snapped, “Say something, dammit!”

“…Dean.” Dean let out something like a laugh and a sob and held Castiel close to his chest. It was… comforting. Warm and sturdy. More than that, it felt _right_ \- like this is where Castiel was meant to be. Right now, though, Dean was shaking violently- was Dean crying?

“Dean!” Castiel heard something vaguely like a large animal running through a forest, then- “I heard an explosion or something, then splashing, and you yelled my name and- is that _Cas?_ ” Castiel caught Sam’s voice through the layers of Dean’s clothing and the fog in his own head and struggled to reach out to Sam. He was met by a searing pain in his torso.

“Don’t move!” Dean turned to Sam. “Help me!”

Each brother took one of the angel’s arms and draped it over their shoulders. This hurt much more than laying on the ground. Castiel felt Dean grip his hand tightly. “We’re going to get you out of here. You’ll be fine,” Dean insisted.

“Dean,” Castiel groaned painfully. The only response he got was Dean’s hand tightening around his own, as if to hold him on this plane of existence.

Castiel was slipping away. He began to miss whole gaps of time. From being carried by the Winchesters, to laying across the backseat of the Impala where Dean was still holding his hand and telling him “you will not die on me you son of a bitch”, to being wheeled into a blinding white room with people in masks that weren’t Dean.

And then blackness.

\----

Dean paced the hospital waiting room restlessly, barely in control of himself. Every instinct screamed at him to _go be with Cas NOW, don’t let him be alone, not with all those people, he’ll be scared and alone…_

“Dean,” Sam said quietly. Dean ignored him and went for another turn around the waiting room. “ _Dean_ ,” Sam insisted.

“WHAT, Sam?” Dean whirled to face Sam, who shrunk back a bit at this display of raw emotion from his brother. Dean wasn’t one to show it, usually.

Sam took a deep breath. “You’re not doing Cas any good, wearing yourself out like this. Sit down.”

“Go to hell, Sam.”

The retort, while swift and expected, still hurt more than was strictly necessary. “Already have been,” Sam reminded Dean.

Dean paused in his pacing. “Then go fuck yourself with a rusty butter knife. I don’t really care either way.” Sam stared at Dean, shocked, and- while he hated himself for admitting it- slightly impressed.

Dean hadn’t even had time to resume pacing when a doctor pushed open the doors to surgery. Dean’s eyes widened in fright, and he moved toward the doctor, but stopped himself at the last second.

The doctor sighed as he removed his plastic gloves, which, Sam noticed, were covered in blood- _Cas’_ blood. “Your friend will be fine… eventually. I have a few questions for you two.”

Dean didn’t hear anything past that. He visibly deflated as he let his breath out in relief. _Cas will be fine._ Time wasn’t an issue, as long as Cas would be okay. Nothing else mattered. Dean was vaguely aware of Sam telling the doctor about themselves and Cas- well, the best he could, anyway. New names, new identities. He kept their first names the same- people had heard them use their names here- but there were new last names. Dean registered that he was now Dean Smith, and Sam was his half-brother Sam Swesson, and Cas was now Castiel… Harding. It fit, somehow. And their new last names sounded familiar, for some reason. He’d figure it out later.

“Can I see him?” Dean interrupted. Sam had been telling the doctor about how he knew Cas from Stanford, where they were pre-law majors (complete bullshit- Cas would be a terrible lawyer). “Please. I just… have to know he’s okay. I have to _see_ it.”

“Well, it’s past visiting hours, son, and we really can’t allow you- but in light of the circumstances,” the doctor backpedaled hurriedly, taking in Dean’s expression, “I can give you fifteen minutes, tops.”

Dean relaxed. “Thank you.” Dean turned toward surgery, ignoring the surprised look on Sam’s face- Dean didn’t apologize to anyone, _ever_. It took Dean less than 10 seconds to reach the door to Cas’ recovery room- number 666. Dean only had time to think exactly how ironic that was before he realized he was on a time schedule and he had to see Cas _now._

Dean pushed open the door.

\----

“So, son, you said… Castiel Harding, correct?”

“Yes sir.” People in the hospital had heard Sam and Dean- well, Dean, mostly- call each other and Cas by their names. For some reason, the names “Smith” and “Swesson” came to mind for Dean and himself. They seemed familiar. Cas, though- Cas never had a last name, so that one was hard. Sam had quickly run through last names and chose “Harding” because it had a nice ring to it- Castiel Harding. Named after the Angel of Thursday and a president. Hah.

“I’ve still got questions, Sam,” the doctor said, briefly glancing up.

“Of course, sir.” The Doctor continued writing on his clipboard before Sam got the nerve to ask: “Um, Dr. Ripkee, can you tell me… what happened to Cas? Like, what’s his condition, I guess you could say?”

“Well…” Ripkee flipped over a couple sheets on his clipboard. “Broken ribs, at least 5- we didn’t want to put him in the x-ray in this state. One of them pierced his lung, which, by the way, was completely water-logged. Broken ankle, sprained wrist, lots of minor cuts and bruises, but the most alarming thing- it looked like something had forced its way out of his stomach.” Sam swallowed nervously. So the Leviathan had nearly killed Cas, and they left him there, assuming he was dead. What kind of friends were they? “Tissues were completely torn apart,” Ripkee continued, oblivious to Sam’s reaction. “Massive blood loss. Between you and me,” Ripkee said, lowering his voice and leaning forward, “he shouldn’t even be alive. That amount of blood loss, combined with being dumped in a lake? Jesus.” Ripkee sat back tiredly. “How did you say you found him again?”

“Well… You know, we were all concerned when he went missing a couple months ago, and it was the last place they’d seen him, the lake, I mean. And the police weren’t doing anything, or if they were it wasn’t working, so we went down to the lake ourselves,” Sam said carefully. “I went back to the car to get my coat- it was colder than I thought- and I heard Dean yelling for me, so I went back and he was dripping wet and he had Cas, said he saw him floating on the lake.” This was close enough to truth. Avoiding all mention of wings, angels, Leviathans, and Purgatory was good. Sam had already been in a mental hospital once and wasn’t eager to try it again.

“Mm.” Ripkee glanced over his glasses. “Was I correct in assuming that your brother and your friend are…?”

“Partners. Yeah.” Well, not technically, but… close enough. “Me and Cas met up after finishing undergrad stuff and he met Dean at my house and it all basically went from there.”

“Yes. Well, just remember, 15 minutes, that’s it,” Ripkee said, standing.

“Yes sir,” Sam said easily. They’d need to leave before the feds got there anyway.

“And, Sam,” Ripkee said, pausing at the door, “take care of him. Your brother, I mean.”

“Of course.” _It wouldn’t be the first time anyway._


	3. The Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter probably marks the point where I found my true writing style- run-on sentences with lots of repetition and BIG WORDS. So if you like this chapter, you'll probably like a lot of what I write in general.

The door was marked 666, and inside it was Dean’s personal hell.

Not that it was actually anything compared to Hell- Dean had been down that road already and never wanted to do it again- but this was a hell of a different sort. Before Dean went to hell, he’d only had one person he really cared about. Well, maybe two or three. But honestly, Lisa wasn’t as close to him then as she was the year Sam was in hell, and Ben wasn’t really his kid. When the hellhounds attacked, Dean only had one person, and that person was Sam. Little Sammy, who Dean had sworn after their mother’s death he would always protect, and failed to keep him safe. They hadn’t known until it was too late that Sam was marked for slaughter in the blood of Azazel.  And when Dean made the deal, he could only think about how he was alone now.

But now Dean was back and he had another person to care about. Castiel, who entered his conscience as a strange, powerful creature that had raised him from the Pit; Castiel, who left empty threats of returning Dean to hell; Castiel, the angel that gave everything for Dean. Dean didn’t know why he started calling him “Cas”; he supposed that it was just because “Castiel”, as a name, was _too fucking long_. Who came up with these names anyway?

 He hadn’t realized just how much Cas would come to mean to him over the next three years. When Dean entered Room 666, he finally came to terms with just how painful this was.

Dean Winchester’s personal hell can be described as such: A man with a shock of black hair, and though you wouldn’t know it now, eyes as bright as the sky on a sunny day in June, laying in a hospital bed, sallow-skinned and barely breathing. To anyone else, this would be sad, possibly heartbreaking, but not as torturous as Dean would find it. But no one else knows what Dean Winchester does- that this man, lying comatose on stiff white sheets, saved him from an eternity of damnation and a future as a creature little more than man. No one else knows that Castiel Harding (or so the hospital records would keep him filed under for many years to come) is an ex-angel. Dean watched Castiel sleep from the doorway, and what struck deepest into Dean’s core was that this man was once so powerful, he was proclaimed to be God- and now, his fate lies in the hands of human doctors and two young hunters.

Put in the most basic way possible, Dean Winchester’s personal hell is watching those around him suffer, and not being able to alleviate their pain. This is why what lies behind the door to Room 666 is so painful for Dean- because no matter how much Dean wants to help Castiel, he can’t.

Dean closed the door behind him.

Dean pulled an old armchair up to the side of Cas’ bed and perched awkwardly in it. What did he do now? Cas wasn’t _okay_ , exactly, but he was alive, and that was something.

“Cas,” Dean began quietly. “I just-” _God, I feel so fucking stupid_. “I can’t believe it.” Once Dean began speaking, all the words tumbled out before he could stop them. “I mean, you were dead and now you’re alive, really, _really_ hurt but… alive, and I just- I…” Dean took Cas’ hand in both of his own and held it up to his lips. “I’m just so happy to see you.” Dean closed his eyes.

“…Dean.” Cas’ hand opened and cupped Dean’s cheek gently. Dean opened his eyes in surprise and found the sky blue ones staring back at him.

“Cas, I…” For once, Dean was lost for words.

“Dean, I- I know,” Cas managed to get out before being overtaken by a coughing fit, which left his lips glistening with blood. Dean’s eyes widened in alarm. _Broken ribs._ “I know,” Cas continued, wincing. “It’s okay.”

“Cas, I don’t-” But that was a lie, because Dean knew exactly what Cas was talking about. “Cas. I love you, okay?” Dean was afraid of rejection- of course he was. Nothing was stable in his life, not girlfriends, not family, not even Sam. It was always confession, rejection, depression. Lather, rinse, repeat. Though in this case, it wasn’t water but alcohol that washed any remnants of any of those women away.

“Of course.” Cas’ reply is so unexpected that Dean starts, startling Cas, who coughs more violently than last time, and groans once the fit is over.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, Cas, I didn’t-” Dean isn’t sure what to do next, so he grabs a tissue with his free hand and gently wipes away the traces of blood from Cas’ mouth.

Cas patiently waits for Dean to finish this, then says weakly, “You didn’t sleep.” It wasn’t a question.

“I didn’t really get the opportunity, Cas.” _I was waiting for you_.

“Then sleep now. You’re… exhausted…” Cas’ hand fell away from Dean’s face as he passed out again. That was Cas, always worrying about Dean more than himself. Cas sleeping was a rare thing to witness- as an angel, he hadn’t needed to sleep, and as a fallen angel, Dean had only seen him sleep once. Sleep brought Castiel what he’d never had in his awake hours- peace. Sure, angels were supposed to be all peace-and-love-and-fluffy-fucking-unicorns, but in reality, they were all overstressed office workers. So when Cas slept, and Dean sat there watching him, Dean was amazed by the transformation it brought on. Cas’ face smoothed out and his mouth opened just a tiny bit, enough to relieve the tension in his jaw, and Dean saw a completely different person, but still Cas.

It was beautiful, and that was the only word for it. A word that Dean had probably never used before in his life, but still… beautiful.

Dean realized his time was up when he heard Sam in the hallway, talking to one of the nurses, either trying to pick her up or trying to give Dean time. Or both. Dean stood warily, loosening his grip on Cas’ hand. Cas stirred at the movement and whimpered almost pathetically, which brought Dean up short. Dean knelt by Cas’ head and murmured, “It’s okay, Cas, I’ll be back before you know it.” He hesitated, then lightly kissed Cas’ temple, and Cas relaxed automatically, his grip on Dean’s hand going slack. Dean walked up to the door of Room 666, glancing back at his fallen angel before slipping out unseen. And sure enough, Sam was in the hallway, hitting on the attending nurse. (Dean had to admit, she was a solid score, but way out of his brother’s league.) Sam glanced up and saw Dean pass through the surgery doors silently, and excused himself.

When Sam joined Dean, Dean was quick to take up the sarcastic, witty mask of his. “Gonna get yourself a nurse, Sammy?”

“At least I’m not the one with a fallen angel.” Dean stopped dead, his jaw dropping. Sam looked at Dean’s expression, laughed, and walked out the door to the Impala. It had been a long day. “Let’s go back to the house, Dean. Come on.” Sam propelled Dean out the door fairly quickly.

“How could you tell?” was the only thing Dean could think to say.

“Please,” Sam snorted. “I know you, Dean. Let me drive. I wouldn’t trust you with a wheelbarrow right now.” Sam started the engine and the brothers drove off, away from the hospital, where an angel had taken residence for the time being.

Dean turned to watch the building where Cas slept shrink onto the horizon. “We’ve got to get a motel room closer to Cas,” Dean said, his voice rough and slipping with exhaustion.

“I know, Dean.” Sam drove in silence for a few more minutes, then glanced over at Dean warily. “Did you tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

“That you love him.”

Dean stared at Sam. “Of course I did.”

“Good,” Sam said, genuinely smiling. “We’ll see him tomorrow, Dean. He’ll be fine.”

Dean stared at the acres of cornfields flashing past the window. “I know.” But hearing it said helped Dean calm down. _He’ll be fine._ Dean let the road noise and the rocking of the Impala lull him into a dreamless sleep, the first in months, even years.

Just before he passed out, one last thought flew across his mind. _I wonder if the hospital cafeteria has pie._  

Then the world was gone to him.


	4. The Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this chapter I was unreasonably upset at the writers of the show so I made it ridiculously fluffy for no apparent reason.... So fluff beware.

It was the third day since Castiel had arrived at the hospital.

He didn’t really like it here. It was never completely quiet, what with the monitors that beeped and the nurses and doctors rushing about in the hallways. He found it hard to sleep after they’d stopped knocking him out with morphine. But Dean said it would be okay, so he decided to trust Dean. Castiel owed Dean that much- his complete trust.

Dean stayed with him most of the time. Sam stopped in occasionally to check up on them or bring Dean food. Castiel needed food now too- he was not as powerful as he once was- and he was not sure what kind of food he enjoyed, other than hamburgers, which he’d experienced when they encountered Hunger during the apocalypse. So more than anything, Dean just liked to talk about meaningless things, mostly, like how the pie in the cafeteria was “fucking delicious, Cas, you’ve got to try it” and how he had finally gotten “Baby”- meaning the Winchester’s 1967 Chevy Impala- up and running again. Castiel simply held his hand and listened to Dean talk and gazed at his emerald-green eyes in wonder.

Sometimes, Dean just sat and held Castiel’s hands in silence. Dean hadn’t mentioned anything about the months he’d been gone and whenever he got close to the subject, Dean just got very quiet and sad, and his eyes would fall to the floor and a tear would form in the corner of his eye. When this happened, Castiel would brush any stray tears away with his thumb and hold Dean’s face in his hand. Often, Dean would push back into his hand, stubble from his cheek brushing against Castiel’s palm, and kiss the middle of Castiel’s hand gently. Dean was more open and peaceful than Castiel had ever seen him before during this time.

The doctors would come in to check up on Castiel often- maybe once every 3 hours or so. For the first day, they would look surprised at Dean’s presence in the room, but by the third day, they greeted Dean by name and sometimes smiled at the two of them together. Castiel was making excellent progress in his healing, even now that his powers were gone. The doctors estimated that Castiel would be free to go in about a week and a half.

The nurses came in more often than the doctors, and they were never as comfortable around Dean and Castiel- at least not the females. Castiel figured this was because both his own vessel and Dean were attractive young men by their standards, and couldn’t act around them like they would other males of their age. They were more comfortable when Sam was around, presumably because Sam was available for the taking.

Castiel still couldn’t move much, but for the first few days, it didn’t bother him. Now it was starting to bug him. Castiel wanted to _move_. He wanted to leave this small, white room with the beeping monitors and the Devil’s number on the door, at least for a little bit. Dean noticed his restlessness. “What’s up with you, Cas?”

“I wish to leave this room, Dean.” Dean looked a bit surprised. “I want to get out and explore. At least for a short time.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Cas,” Dean grinned.

Within the hour, Dean had Castiel in a wheelchair and was pushing him down the hallway toward the courtyard. On the way there, they passed the nursery where the newborn infants were kept. “Dean, wait,” Castiel murmured. Dean slowed down.

“What is it, Cas?” Dean looked at the newborns in their identical cradles labeled with names.

Castiel stared at the infants. “They’re each so precious in their own way,” he said softly. “I don’t have my powers anymore, Dean. But I can still see into their souls. And I can see what they are meant to do in the world. I just didn’t think there could be something so… _pure_ , not after what I’ve witnessed in the world.” Dean knelt down to Castiel’s level, laying a hand on his shoulder. For some reason, Castiel felt very emotionally affected by the presence of the children. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes- the first time he’d ever experienced it for himself. “I’ve seen so much evil and darkness, but these humans are so bright- they have so much promise.”

Dean looked at Castiel more closely, trying to pick out his reasoning behind saying this. “So… what’re you saying, Cas?”

“I’m saying… I think I know what I’m fighting for.”


	5. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have written this episode out of pain resulting from the season 7 finale, so I’ve been very kind to Cas. And if you don’t like Cas, or at the least if you’re very vocal about it, you ought not read my fanfiction.

Two days after Castiel left the hospital with the Winchesters, he started asking questions- questions about the time he was away, questions about any angels they might’ve seen, and _Crowley, is he still around, and where’s Bobby, weren’t you with him, oh, God, did I kill him too?_

Dean was always there to reassure Cas he didn’t kill any of those people, but he never talked about what exactly happened after Purgatory was opened the second time. Cas could tell he didn’t want to, so he didn’t push it, but with every unanswered question there came new questions; _why won’t they tell me what happened, what if they’re lying and I really_ did _kill those people, what if this is all my fault?_

It fell to Sam to drag Dean into the spare bedroom Cas was staying. “Tell him, Dean.”

When Dean didn’t answer, Sam simply said, “Remember how well keeping secrets turned out every other time?” and Dean’s lips thinned out as he frowned at Sam, but he couldn’t argue with Sam, because he was right- every time they kept secrets, something terrible happened. Sam opened Lucifer’s cage, and Cas broke Sam’s wall, and Dean killed Amy, and nothing good ever came out of keeping secrets, so why did they keep at it?

Dean took a deep breath and began. “Well, I hate to ask, Cas, but… what do _you_ remember?”

Cas thought about this. Light, rushing energy and power, overtaking him- _too much power, far too much for one being_ \- blood on his hands, the blood of humans and angels and archangels- _I just wanted to stop Raphael, I never wanted this_ \- trying to purge himself of the souls, the door to Purgatory stood open, empty and waiting, and he fell through darkness again- _some good will come of my death, maybe they’ll be safe now-_ only to wake, and the Leviathans took him over, and his vessel was cracking at the seams until there was nothing left.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice brought him back to the present, and he realized he had his hands pressed against his ears in an effort to block out the memories. Dean’s hands pried his own off of his face and moved to hold Cas. “Cas, Cas, it’s okay, I’m right here-”

Cas buried his head in Dean’s shoulder, hyperventilating slightly. “I killed so many people,” he whispered into Dean’s collar. He pushed out of Dean’s arms and looked him in the eyes. “You have to tell me,” Cas said, trying to keep his voice even. “Tell me what happened.”

“Well… after the Leviathans… broke out,” Dean began hesitantly, then stopped at the look on Cas’ face. “You know, we can do this later, I mean, we don’t-”

“No,” Cas said, taking a deep breath. “Now.”

Dean looked a little skeptical, and more than a little worried, but he continued after a moment. “Okay. Well, the first thing that happened, I suppose, was Sam’s… problem.”

Cas looked at Sam, who said, “I have these… visions. It’s Lucifer, he’s inside my head. He makes me see things, or he just talks to me.” Sam grimaced. “He keeps singing Dream On.”

Dean considered this for a moment, then said, “It’s a good song.”

“Not the twenty-first time,” Sam muttered.

“Sam…” Cas’ voice caught as he scanned the space around Sam and caught sight of a disturbance in the air. Sam noticed Cas staring exactly where Lucifer was in his vision. “I am _so_ sorry I did this to you…”

“No, Cas, it’s okay. Really. I’m managing,” Sam said hastily, putting on a brave little smile.

“I can’t even fix it. I promised I would,” Cas said sadly. “I promised I would save you.”

“I know you did.” Sam gazed at Cas while Dean rubbed his thumbs over Cas’ knuckles. “But I’m okay. We have other things to deal with right now.”

Dean began to speak in an even tone again, this time about the events after they got back out of the hospital. While he spoke, Amy Pond died again, Sam married Becky again, and Bobby was taken into the corporate headquarters and shot while trying to escape again.

“We had him cremated,” Dean told Cas. “It’s the closest we could get to a hunter’s funeral. And we took his ashes back to Sioux Falls and snuck them back to the salvage yard. The Leviathans are guarding it, but… we had to. It’s what he’d want.”

“It’s a shame his house is gone…” Cas murmured. “He had a good deal of information that could have been useful.”

“Well, yeah, I suppose. But anyway…” Dean continued speaking, telling Cas about the Amazon tribe and the brief life of his daughter Emma. “She was… I mean, she was evil, and trying to kill me, but… she was mine,” Dean said quietly. “And I wasn’t going to do it. Kill her. I couldn’t.” Cas gazed at him evenly while Dean tried to find his words. “Sam did it. And, I suppose, because what I did to Amy… neither of us was right, but- but what’s done is done.”

As Dean was talking, the sun went down and its glow was replaced by a dim wavering light emitted from the bedside lamp. Cas suddenly noticed the darkness and frowned. There was a half-melted candle sitting on the dresser across the room, which Sam had left there the last time they’d done a basic spell from that point. Cas flicked his fingers, concentrating, and the candle sparked up and lit, so the hospital-like lamplight was replaced by a warm, flickering light. Dean and Sam looked around at the candle, then back at Cas. Cas smiled slightly, because although the flames echoed on the walls reminded him of a different place and a different time- _having your friends use the tricks you taught them against you, what greater horror can the Earth hold than the feeling of ultimate betrayal?_ \- it was better than the artificial, impersonal light that had once been there.

“And, well, I guess that’s it… That’s pretty much everything that’s happened.” Dean glanced at Sam. “Have you got anything to add?”

“Not really, no.” Sam’s eyes flickered back into the corner where Lucifer stood, mocking him- _You gonna tell Cassie the truth about me? How you can’t make me go away? I’m here to stay and you_ know _it._ \- then back to Dean and Cas. “I’m gonna go catch some sleep, that okay?”

Dean looked at Sam carefully. “Yeah, Sam. That’s fine.” Sam gratefully started toward the door, then Dean called, “Hey, Sammy?”

Sam turned back to Dean apprehensively. “Yeah?”

“You tell us if- if anything changes, okay, Sam?” Dean said, concern showing on his face. Dean knew Sam’s hallucinations were getting worse, and there was nothing he or Cas could do to stop them, but Dean wanted to let Sam know that he was always there. Cas smiled internally at this, because he understood the depth of their relationship, and knew that Sam would have already come to Dean if he’d needed to. Sam nodded in acknowledgement and closed the door behind him.

Dean glanced up at Cas, hands still placed over Cas’, and smiled slightly. Cas tilted his head quizzically at this, confused by Dean’s behavior. “You gonna be okay, Cas?”

“Yes.” Cas’ certainty brought Dean up short, but Cas was absolutely sure of his answer. “It’s better knowing, Dean. Not knowing what I did… it was eating me alive. Now I know, and I can make amends.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Dean said softly to him, drawing him closer, so their foreheads bumped together and their noses touched. Cas closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax.

“I’m not sure I can agree with that,” Cas murmured in reply. He could practically hear Dean grin as he moved slightly and kissed him.

“Sleep, okay?” Cas opened his blue eyes and met Dean’s green, and nodded slowly. Dean pressed his lips against Cas’ forehead as he stood to leave, first helping Cas under the sheets. Cas turned on his side and Dean lightly stroked his shoulder before turning out the lamp and walking out of the room.

He’d left the candle burning. 


	6. The Runaway

Three days later, Dean and Sam woke up to an empty house. Castiel was gone. Dean was beside himself, obviously, calling the burner phone they gave Cas and every other hunter they knew who was still alive and willing to be associated with them. Sam glanced at the coffee table in the cabin and saw a paper with unfamiliar, spiked handwriting on it. “Is this Cas’ handwriting?” Sam asked Dean, who paused in his pacing only long enough to nod briskly.

Sam began to read the paper, which appeared to be a rough translation of the Latin manuscripts scattered around the cabin. “Dean,” he said urgently. “I think I know where Cas went.”

\----

 _“Et ubi Leviathanes compedes Purgatorii effuget, capissiverunt corpus angeli ut salvator eorum. Munda cecedit et portant silentium et finis omnes relica.”_ Sam frowned at the second paper while the engine of the Impala roared. “Cas says it means ‘When the Leviathans flee the bonds of Purgatory, they will have taken the body of an angel as their savior. Worlds will fall and bring silence and the end of all things.’”

“We already fucking _knew_ that,” Dean snapped, pushing the accelerator to the floor. “What does that have to do with Cas leaving?”

“Think about it, Dean,” Sam insisted. “There are other pages missing. He must have translated them. The beginning of this one says- it’s only a fragment of a sentence, but it says- ‘The directions are as follows: go to the place of the reckoning, and upon the closure’- that’s it, though.”

“Then what the fuck does that mean?”

“Where Cas opened Purgatory in the first place. That’s where he’s going- that’s where the breach is,” Sam explained.

\----

Castiel hoped that Dean and Sam wouldn’t find him.

Of course, he could never hide himself completely, and he should have expected the Winchesters to find him. Halfway through the ritual that the translation detailed, rough hands seized him from behind and spun him around forcefully. “Dean, what-”

“What the fuck, Cas!” The breath _whooshed_ out of Castiel’s chest as he hit the wall behind him, and his head flared with sudden pain. “What did you think you were doing?”

“Saving lives,” Castiel snapped, fighting off the impulse to collapse to the ground. His head was spinning violently. He shook it to clear his vision. “No one has to die but me, Dean. I can pay for my mistakes!”

“I won’t let you.” Dean was close to him, far too close for comfort, full of anger and pain. “Cas, please, you can’t do this. Stay here for me.”

 _Of course._ “That’s not fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war.”

“Was that Shakespeare?” Castiel asked curiously, as Dean turned him back in the direction to the Impala, still keeping a firm hand on his shoulder, as though he would try to run off. _Doesn’t he understand I’m just trying to do what’s best?_

“No clue. Ask Sam.”

\----

“So you lied to us,” Sam said, leaning back into his chair with crossed arms.

“No,” Cas protested. “I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

“How about you start, then. Now,” Dean added.

“It said… it says,” Cas corrected himself, “ ‘ _Modo angelus qui responsibilis est claudere potest ianuas.’_ ” There was a brief pause, then Cas reluctantly continued, “It means, literally, ‘only the angel who is responsible can close the doors.’”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Dean commented, shrugging his shoulders.

“ _Ubi amittit cruor vitae, tum mundum salvatur,”_ Cas quoted. _Neque Leviathanibus neque daemonibus non potest defendetur. Angelus perit desinere miseriam et pacem portat._ ”

“That sounded worse,” Dean muttered, narrowing his eyes.

“It is,” Cas said quietly. “It says that I have to die to save the planet from sure destruction. There are instructions to a ritual-”

“So you ran to go and kill yourself?” Dean demanded angrily.

“You wouldn’t have let me-”

“No shit, Cas!”

“We wouldn’t have let you because there has to be an easier way,” Sam said soothingly, trying to placate both of the smaller men.

“Sam,” Cas sighed, as though correcting a child.

“I just got you back,” Dean whispered, turning Cas toward him. “Don’t leave me again.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“But you did anyway.”

“I didn’t have a _choice_!” Cas insisted.

“There is _always_ a choice,” Dean said. “Free will, Cas. Don’t just walk into that prophecy. What did we fight for if you were just going to go with it?” Cas closed his eyes and leaned into Dean’s shoulder. “I can’t watch you do this to yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas mumbled into the layers of cotton and polyester fabric at Dean’s neck. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas to hold him steady.

Because staying strong was his job.

\----

“What did it really mean? What you said yesterday,” Sam asked Castiel, who glanced up from his takeout Chinese box. “The Latin, I mean.”

“Um, well, literally, it says, ‘When he spills the blood of life, then the world will be saved. He can be defended from neither Leviathans nor demons. The Angel will die to end suffering and bring peace.’ All in all…” Castiel let the end of the sentence slide off.

“That’s… dark,” Sam finished lamely.

“And quite immovable,” Castiel agreed. He thought for a minute, then asked Sam, “Why won’t Dean let me use the spell?”

Sam looked up, surprised. “You know why.”

“No,” Castiel snapped, shocking Sam greatly. “That’s all you ever say to me, _you know why_ , or _you can’t do that,_ and I never get an explanation _why_. I don’t know how to be human, Sam.”

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Sam said quietly. “I didn’t think of it like that.”

After a moment, Castiel spoke again. “Are you going to answer my question?”

Sam appeared to think about it. “Well, it’s not exactly logical, you know,” he began. “I mean, he’s lost you three times- _we’ve_ lost you three times, all those times you died- and he’s not willing to lose you again.”

“He let you take Lucifer,” Castiel pointed out.

“That was different. And really, it was the only option we had at that point,” Sam told him. Castiel remembered their initial plan to use the Colt against Lucifer. “Ellen and Jo died and we didn’t have anything else to try.”

“I remember.” Castiel would have left it alone, but then he burst out, “But isn’t it more logical to let me die instead of thousands?”

Sam smiled slightly. “It would be, yeah,” he said. “But like I said, it’s not logical. And we hardly know anything about the Leviathan except how to slow them down.”

“We’ll just have to do some more research, then,” Castiel decided.

But research is hard when you can’t stay awake for long enough. Dean would wake up from his sleeping to find both Castiel and Sam passed out on the small table in the motel room, faces on books and a single candle sputtering out. And even though neither of them would see it, a small smile would light up his face.

\----

Dean idly flipped through the book of Latin manuscripts that Cas had been translating before he’d fallen asleep. They would really have to learn how to read this- they couldn’t always rely on Cas, especially not after he healed- but now was definitely not the time to go learning a dead language.

When he’d found Cas and Sam asleep out here, he’d managed to get Sam to wake up enough to stumble back to a bed. But Cas was a heavy sleeper, and in the end Dean had had to pick him up and carry him away from the table. Now he was completely unaware of the world around him, sleeping soundly- _thank God,_ Dean thought briefly- and Dean just was just waiting for the two of them to wake up.

In the book there was an exorcism, the one that they always used on the demons, and underneath it in the book was a note from Cas in thin, spidery writing- _Modification needed- could exorcise Leviathan?_

A chill went through Dean. He read the type-set Latin and the scrawled notes underneath.

_Exorcizamus te. Omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas. Omnis incursio infernalis adversarii. Omnis legio et secta diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte et sectio, ergo draco et legio secta diabolica. Ut ecclesiam tuam secure tibi facias. Servire libertate te rogamus audi nos._

This was familiar to Dean- it was probably the only piece of literature he’d ever memorized for more than a high school English presentation. (Damn, sonnets were a bitch.) Cas’ writing underneath was what made it all the more interesting.

 _Omnes incursio infernalis adversarii: “all Hellish attacks of the enemy.”_  
               - reference to Hell - > reference to Purgatory?   
               - “Omnes incursio purgatoris adversarii”?

Notes like this followed for most of the page of paper Cas had placed in the book- _he’s trying to exorcise the Leviathan_ , Dean realized. “You sneaky bastard,” he muttered in awe, setting the book aside gingerly. He glanced at Cas’ sleeping form, thinner than when they first met and far, far different. Dean had assumed that Cas was done surprising him, and yet he’s revealed another side of his mind that Dean had never known.

This could work, Dean realized. This could really, actually work. They could get rid of the Leviathan, close the door to Purgatory, and-

-and what? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY that it's been so long since I've updated this one! Anyway, I'm back now and nearly finished- chapter 7 can be expected sometime within the next two weeks!


	7. The Exorcist

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said the next morning when Cas came stumbling out of his room, hair disheveled and eyes barely open. “You look like death,” he added, looking Cas over more closely.

“I resent that,” Cas mumbled, sitting heavily on the couch next to Dean. “You know what Death looks like.”

“It was a joke.” Dean poured out a cup of coffee for each of them and took them to the couch.

“Thank you,” Cas said gratefully, cradling the cup close to him.

“Really, though, you look awful. What did that ritual do to you?” Dean asked, settling next to Cas.

It took Cas a moment to collect himself. “It’s meant to use my grace to pull the Leviathans back through the rip,” he explained, pausing to take a sip of the coffee. “I don’t have my grace anymore, so-”

“It was pulling on your life force,” Dean finished.

“For lack of better words, yes,” Cas agreed.

“Jesus, Cas, what were you thinking?”

“I believe we’ve been over that,” Cas said quietly. “I would appreciate it if you left it alone.”

“Right.” Dean was quiet for a minute, then asked, “How much of your life did it take?”

“I don’t know. Jimmy- when he still inhabited this body, anyway- would be 35 by natural aging, but now…” Cas thought for a moment. “I would say I’m about 38 now. This body didn’t age when it was inhabited by an angel- me- but now it can.”

“Dude, you’re older than me.”

“I’ve always been older than you,” Cas teased. “Multi-dimensional celestial wavelength, remember? I’m millions of years old.”

“Ugh, that’s weird,” Dean muttered, rubbing his head. He glanced at his watch briefly and said, “I gotta go wake the moose up.”

Cas pulled his brow together in confusion, then tentatively replied, “You mean… Sam?”

“Yes, Cas, I mean Sam,” Dean sighed, leaving the room to force his younger brother out of bed. He usually took a good deal of prodding, but today he woke straight up.

The first words out of his mouth were “How’s Cas?”

“Fine.” Dean threw a shirt at Sam, hoping to hit him in the face, but Sam snatched it out of the air and gave him a ‘the-fuck-was-that-for’ look.

“I get that you’re mad at him-”

“Don’t start, Sam,” Dean warned. _I swear to God, if he gets all New-Agey on me today-_

“I’m just saying, Dean,” Sam insisted. “I’m not happy with the whole running-away-thing either, but I get it.”

“Sam-” Dean stopped, sat on the edge of the bed. “I can’t be angry at him right now. We’ve got bigger things to worry about, you know?”

Sam stared at him for a moment, then said, “Yeah, I know.” Sam stood and pulled off the T-shirt he’d slept in and swapped it for the one Dean had thrown at his face. “So what are we doing today?”

“I had the same question,” Cas’ voice added from the doorway. Dean glanced back at him, thinner frame filling out as the weeks pass from the day they found him on the lakeshore, and lowered his gaze to his hands. _Jesus, I love you._

“I was reading the rest of your translations, Cas,” he said instead. “I saw the translation of the exorcism.”

Cas blanched. “If you’re suggesting what I think you are-” He cut off his voice, shook his head, and continued. “I really don’t think it’s possible, Dean. The energy it would take to cast that spell, and all the things that could go wrong- one slip in the language-”

“Someone want to fill me in here?” Sam interrupted.

“He was translating the exorcism, changing it to be for the Leviathans instead of demons,” Dean told him.

“That’s freaking genius, Cas!” Sam exclaimed.

“But it _won’t work_ ,” Cas snapped, frustrated. “Even if the language is perfect, it’ll only do exactly what you don’t want it to- which is why I went behind your back _in the first place-_ ”

“Woah, Cas, calm down,” Dean said in alarm, reaching out with one hand and gesturing to the space next to him with the other. Cas reluctantly sat next to Dean. “Now explain what you mean,” he continued softly, laying his hand over Cas’ gently.

“If we use the exorcism on the Leviathans, it’d be like trying to exorcise all the demons on Earth at once,” Cas began. “It would take too much energy. Whoever cast the spell would die.”

They were all silent for a minute, then Dean blurted out, “Two people can cast it.”

“What?”

“We’re making the spell ourselves, right?” Dean stood up and began pacing. “So we can do whatever we want. We can direct the spell to draw from two people, maybe even three-”

“And then no one would have to die,” Sam interjected excitedly. “Dean, that’s perfect!”

“Cas, what do you think?” Dean turned back to Cas, who was sitting on the bed, frowning slightly. “Cas?”

“It… should work with only two people,” Cas said slowly, as though he was thinking through each step. “With two people, we’d have to enchant an object, an amulet or something…”

“I can do that, if you and Sam work on the language of the exorcism. Languages aren’t really my thing,” Dean said, walking toward the door. “Cas, you ought to get dressed, come on.” Cas stood and followed him.

 “Dean, you understand that I can’t be absolutely sure this will work, right?” Cas asked him anxiously, stepping around him and stopping.

“Of course I do. We’ve gone on less, though,” Dean pointed out. “Letting Sam be possessed by Lucifer? Not one of our most shining moments.” Cas made a face like he agreed, then brushed his hand against Dean’s in passing.  

 _What could possibly go wrong?_  Dean thought briefly, thick sarcasm overlying even his private thoughts.

_No, no, don’t think that._

_You_ know _what happens when you think that. You watch TV._

\----

Castiel slowly pulled a clean shirt over his head and mulled over the conversation. But where to start? _Start with basics._

_1)_ _Dean thinks it will work._

That was a good place to be. Not that Dean was more learned in lore or languages than him- it had taken Dean several months to memorize the exorcism, he knew- but he had a kind of intuition that led him down certain paths. Sure, intuition might not be proof, but humans took gut feelings into account, and Castiel trusted Dean’s instinct.

_2)_ _Using multiple people may circumvent the sacrifice clause._

Another side of Dean- he actually was very intelligent in his own way. And though it was clear that he intended to be the second caster, Castiel had no intention of letting Dean put himself in danger, because the spell could take so much more energy than originally thought- a life, the reactor of a nuclear power plant, who knows? But their lives were at stake anyway, so…

_3)_ _Dean and Sam still want to help me, despite my mistakes._

Truly amazing, really. This was the best side of Sam and Dean, and the one that very few people got to see- the side that forgave, the side that cared, the side that loved their family with a nearly blind intensity. Well, not blind- they could see the flaws, they just took them into account and continued trusting those close to them.

What did people see?

To hunting society, they were _the Winchesters_ , the scariest and most lethal hunters in the community with a grudge level that could label you dead months before your heart stopped beating; to demons and the other supernatural beings walking the earth, they were the stuff of nightmare and legend, the Boy King and his elder brother, the thing that lives under your bed; to the other angels in Heaven they were merely vessels of the oldest beings to walk the Earth, vehicles to be used and consequently dumped on a roadside, beaten and broken. But to Castiel, they were the most beautiful souls he’d seen in the whole of his existence, and knowing them was a true privilege- one that many of the younger angels would contest viciously over.

Castiel realized that his mind had wandered far from the original topic- human minds weren’t built to handle the vast wavelengths of information that Castiel possessed- and sighed, pushing his hair back with his hands. He exited the room and was met by Dean, reading from a tattered manuscript. He looked up at Castiel and smiled softly. “You ready?” he asked quietly.

Castiel locked eyes with him. “Let’s get to work.”

\----

“Cas, what’s the Latin word for soul?” Sam asked from across the room, looking up from a modernized Latin-English dictionary.

“ _Anima_ ,” Cas told him tiredly. “Though you’ll probably use a plural form _animae_. What do you have so far?”

“I’m working on the ‘draw the power from our two souls, connected by magic and grace’ bit. This is really difficult,” Sam grumbled.

“It would be easier if your grammar was less rudimentary,” Cas said vaguely. “Passive verbs and all that.”

“It was never a problem before,” Sam replied. “How does this sound?” He smoothed out a piece of notebook paper and read, “ _Capisse energiam nostri duis animis, quae conjunctae venificio et dignitate.”_

“I’m not sure about the _nostri duis animis_ bit,” Cas decided. “Possessive pronouns are hard. You may have just said that we own a ‘two’ and the soul bit is unrelated.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sam swore under his breath, circling the offending phrase so they could correct it later. Dean reentered the cabin with a box of donuts and cups of coffee.

“Breakfast,” he said cheerily, placing the box on the table in front of Sam and taking a coffee to Cas, who didn’t look up but took the cup with a murmured ‘thank you’. He ruffled Cas’ hair affectionately, then handed Sam a cup.

“Don’t touch my hair,” Sam warned him. Dean snorted.

“I wasn’t going to. How’s it going?”

“Slowly,” Cas muttered, pushing his papers away. “And my head is killing me. The words are so…” Cas gestured for a minute, then settled on “…small.”

“Maybe you need reading glasses,” Dean suggested. “I picked up a pair for Gigantor here, and a spare for when we lose them. Try it.” He handed Cas a fabric case and Cas removed the glasses and placed them delicately on the bridge of his nose.

“That’s much better. Thank you, Dean,” Cas said earnestly, glancing over the papers with renewed interest.

“How long is it going to take you guys? And is there anything you might need?” Dean asked. Cas handed a list over his shoulder. “This list is in Latin, Cas.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize.” Cas took the list back and started reading it out. “There are quite a few ingredients. Blood, for starters, and salt; poisons like belladonna and wolfsbane; foxglove for summoning; brimstone, echinacea, sandalwood, mandrake, snapdragon, black pepper-”

“What, are we seasoning them now?” Dean interrupted, smirking.

“It’s used to speed up the exorcism, Dean,” Cas said severely. “I admit that it may sound strange, but we need all the help we can get. The fewer herbs we use, the more energy it takes from us.” Dean fell silent.

“We might need to enlist some Wiccans to help us,” Sam said quickly, to diffuse the tension. “They know the herbs better than we do.”

“Only to get the herbs,” Cas corrected him. “Who do you think gave the Wiccans the herb information in the first place?”

“Jesus, is there anything the angels haven’t messed with?” Dean grumbled, picking a glazed donut out of the box in front of him.

“Democracy.” Cas picked up a pen and began translating the list. “I also found this symbol, we’re going to have to paint it in a mixture of blood and… well, I’m not sure what it means, really.”

“You don’t know what we need?”

“No, because it’s not a word, it’s a name. Like, a proper noun, it doesn’t translate,” Cas complained.  “ _Angelica kingii_. The closest I can tell, it could mean that something is angelic, or heavenly, but I don’t know what the last bit means.”

“Couldn’t it just mean-?” Dean started asking, then cut himself off. “Never mind, the Latin word for king is _rex_. Carry on.” Sam stared at him briefly before picking up where Cas left off.

“What about scientific names?”

Cas ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I didn’t even think about that. I mean… I don’t know if they had scientific names when this was written.”

“Dude, you’re like a million years old,” Dean said hesitantly.

“And I forget things sometimes, Dean, God forbid I don’t have a perfect memory,” Cas snapped, putting his head in his hands.

“Tell you what, Cas,” Sam said quickly, hoping to lighten the mood. “I’ll see if this is a scientific name for something, you go take a siesta. You’ve been reading too long.” Cas’ head dropped a little further, out of his hands and Dean put a hand on Cas’ shoulder.

“I’ve got so much _work_ to do,” Cas groused, standing to go find a surface to sleep on. (Really, any surface would do, at this point. He’s just so _tired._ )

“It’s not like the Leviathans will be gone tomorrow,” Dean reminded him, taking the papers from Cas’ hands and sitting on the couch in the spot he’d just vacated. Cas sat back down next to him and laid his head down on Dean’s leg. Within three minutes he was sound asleep. Dean chuckled. “He really needs to take better care of himself.”

“He’s the only one who can do the work, so he wants to do it all as quickly as possible,” Sam murmured, stacking the papers on the table into some kind of organization. Dean nodded, running his hand through Cas’ hair absent-mindedly.

“Did you guys pull another all-nighter last night?” Dean gently removed the reading glasses from Cas’ face and placed them on the table. Sam nodded distractedly. “You guys gotta stop doing that. The Leviathans aren’t going anywhere.”

“That’s the point, though,” Sam answered. “I mean, they haven’t tried to kill us since we found Cas, they aren’t making waves in the news, Dick hasn’t even put any huge business plans in place- we’re worried about what they’re planning.”

“That’s an unsettling thought,” Dean said after a minute of thinking. “What could they possibly be planning?”

“Dunno,” Sam said, shrugging. “We’ll just have to beat them to it.”

 


End file.
